Fading Light
by SillyWQ
Summary: The war is at a break, and Soul Society seems to be at peace for now, but is everything as well as it seems to be? Behind the curtains, something is terribly wrong with Hitsugaya Toshiro. What horrors did he see when being held captive in Hueco Mundo?
1. Chapter 1

Soul Society had descended into disarray.

Everywhere you went, you would catch a whole spectre of different emotions; everything from anger and grief to happiness and hope. Another battle with the Arrancar was over, (though not the whole war) and the casualties were in the process of being counted, the injured were getting their treatment and damages were being repaired.

Everything was a huge mess.

While captains had been sent into Hueco Mundo to fight there, the Gotei 13 had become messy. Some of the squads, like the trigger happy 11th division, and Byakuya's trustful 6th, had next to none casualties, while some had lost entire squads, and had to be assigned temporary assistance from other divisions.

The only great relief was that, by normal definition, all captains and vice captains returned, and things were slowly getting back to normal.

But one of them still didn't fully make it back.

Though his body had been brought back, the genius mind of the 10th division captain, Hitsugaya Toshiro, had yet to return.

* * *

One of the places where happiness was displayed at its finest was in the real world, at a certain substitute shinigami's house. The rest of his family was out, and he'd invited the shinigami (and Quincy and humans,) he knew to celebrate a war well overcome, live the lives of those who made it through and honour the memories of those who were lost.

Everyone who could afford to get a day off were there.

But the mysterious captain just sat there in silence with half lidded eyes that displayed his now dull and fading will, as if it had been stolen, back there in Hueco Mundo.

Unlike himself, the self-proclaimed hater of everything hot, the prodigy wore a discreet gray turtleneck, which had arms way too long for his lithe form, black cotton sweatpants that rested upon his blue-gray socks, and a matching black hoodie that he constantly kept pulling up to hide the rest of his exposed neck and part of his cheeks as well as his lips. The only glimpse of paled skin that did not belong to his upper face Ichigo could get, was when shaking fingers reached up to ensure that the zipper was zipped up all the way, before they retreated into the unusually long sleeves.

In any other case, the substitute shinigami would have gotten a cold glare and a sharp warning, to which he would respond with a not-so-innocent grin and teasingly unserious reply, but even if Ichigo was sure he'd been staring for several minutes already, there was no response. It _didn't even seem like he'd been noticed yet._

What could have happened? What could possibly have caused Hitsugaya to suddenly become so distant?

His line of thought was interrupted by a goofy looking Renji, waving a hand in front of his seemingly unfocused eyes and asking what the matter was. Nothing, he explained to the man with braided, red hair as both of them smiled, because nothing _was_ the matter.

With him, anyway.

* * *

It hurt. Every step he took was a huge strain to his aching body. It wasn't a stabbing pain; it was a gnawing one, one that lurked deep within him. It sat in his bones; it sat in his flesh, his skin, his heart. Every second he spent awake, all he wanted was to go to sleep, but when he gave in to the crave, horrible nightmares woke him up, and he would swear to himself he never would never again touch that bed.

His life had become a circle, and nothing but that. No, his existence had become a circle; his life was no more. He had never before felt so much like an empty shell. He was just a shadow of himself.

Everything he did as of late wasn't his own conscious actions. Things like yelling at Matsumoto, merely forcing up enough anger, seemed impossible. He didn't want it, any of it. The world was just… Too much. It was overwhelming, noisy, intruding into his personal space.

It was all too close. He just wanted to distance himself from it all, and even though people said he'd done it well—he'd heard all the rumours going on—he didn't feel that way.

Even now that he sat still, enclosed in his dark, little world of thoughts, memories and nightmares, knees pulled up to his chest and arms enveloping them, everything around him was too close.

"Matsumoto," he called softly to his vice-captain, bringing himself back to the world of the living, and the woman's head turned, her smile staying a second as she had forgotten all about her superior's condition. It was only a second, though; it faded away, replaced by a quite grim look over the too soft, too low voice that had requested her attention.

"Yes, Captain?"

"We're heading back."

The woman's jaws tensed up visibly, but she nodded in undiluted respect, knowing she was never to doubt the man who gave her orders. She would disobey him now and then, but his words were always final.

Too bad the words now were very seldom and very few.

"Yes, Captain."

Matsumoto got up immediately, noticing how the eyes of a certain substitute shinigami didn't follow her movements, his lips didn't form any words that went against the prodigy's orders of leaving, and how his whole being spoke of the sudden change in the icy boy, unlike the others of the room. She couldn't teach him about it yet, though, but nudged his elbow with the tip of her toes, encouraging him to look up at her.

Ichigo did, and for a moment, he seemed just as distant as Hitsugaya did—as if he had been visiting the very depth of her superior's mind— making the woman shiver.

'Come visit me,' her lips spoke out, soundlessly, and no one but the one supposed to receive the message seemed to notice.

The strawberry had never given a nod more important than the one he gave to her.

Hands in his pockets, back hunched like another fifty years had been put on his shoulders and knees straightened out like he was prepared to run away from reality every second, the captain left out through the door, leaving it open, not waiting for Matsumoto to join him, but expecting her to do so without further encouragement. She did, and regretfully looked back at her joyful comrades, the exception being a pair of deep brown eyes that shone with both understanding and confusion.

Her heart clenched. I see it too, Ichigo, she wanted to tell him. Something is wrong, and not even I know what.

"Matsumoto…" Hitsugaya spoke once again, this time even softer than the first. Something in the lingering undertone he'd put to her name, though, kept her from speaking up just yet. There was more to it, and she could not help but to get her hopes up.

"You will not be able to visit this world for some time from now on," he whispered hoarsely, and her heart sunk again.

"Captain… What—"

"Also," he quickly continued, breaking her off, "nothing is wrong. Don't ask questions, either."

The woman inhaled sharply, but without a sound, and found herself walking further and further behind her colleague, partner, the man that sometimes even was considerable as a friend.

That man now left frost in his steps, which chilled her as she could only walk upon them, more and more frost separating them as he drove forward, step by step, and the fluttering of the haori he wasn't wearing at the moment fanned icy winds that drove her away. It didn't matter that she had by now become resistant, if not immune to the cold shoulder given to her daily. This wasn't that kind of cold. It was a new one, and neither did it matter that Hitsugaya wielded the strongest ice-type zanpakuto of their world.

She wasn't sure if he could survive this new ice age that was threatening to finish off his world.

And she wasn't sure if the frosty captain cared anymore.

* * *

It wasn't long before they had returned to Seireitei, delivered an immediate report to the captain-commander, ordered some tea to be prepared for them, and finally retreated to their office, to the well worn chairs that by now seemed to remember their shape, and embraced them as they grabbed their brushes, dipped them in the ink wells and got to work on the endless masses of forms, reports, receipts and whatever the world needed them to take care of.

Normally, Matsumoto would finish a tiny mountain, but only a fraction of the great Alps of Paperwork, before she excused herself with something and escaped with her name ringing pleasurably in her ears, the feeling of having annoyed her captain giving her a sense of self accomplishment, but this time, she did no such thing—in fact, she didn't even consider it.

For some reason, she had a strong feeling that it made no difference whether she was there or not. Hitsugaya had always been cold, but that had never meant that he was void of emotions. Now, it looked like they had abandoned him completely, on an even greater scale than Byakuya. No, there was something in his eyes, in the deep cleave between his eyebrows, in the stiff way he hid himself from everything. It was pain; not a will to die, but a will to not live.

A will to pull himself out of reality and into his own mind.

Her grip on the brush in her hand tightened, and it could very well snap any moment. She was drowning in worry, choking on the questions, led astray by the uneven signals given to her. It couldn't continue; something had changed in Hitsugaya, but something had also changed him. She needed to know why. She needed to fix it.

"Captain."

Her superior didn't, unsurprisingly, lift his head the slightest, and if she didn't know better, she would think that the brush that kept scribbling out words was a sign of his not paying attention, but if anyone was the master at multi-tasking, at least when it came to paperwork, it was him.

"What is it, Matsumoto?"

The fact that his voice sounded quieter and fainter than usual brought tears to her eyes, and she had to gather herself again before she could let out another line of words.

Hitsugaya waited, uncharacteristically, patiently.

"Captain, I know you have already warned me about it, but I can't stand it anymore. I need to know what happened there. I need to know what has taken my captain away."

She could hear the brush stop for a moment, and she actually believed that she was getting an answer this time, until it started a new sentence, and she realized it had just been dipped in the inkwell once again.

"Like I told you before, it is none of your business."

Something snapped inside of the woman, the seal that had reigned in her anger, confusion, pain, guilt, hopelessness and fear, broke and let it all out. She stood from her chair, which fell to the floor behind her, raising up dust from the not yet cleaned office, threw her pencil across the room, leaving a splatter of ink behind it, and clenched her fists, a couple of unshed tears hanging on her fine eyelashes.

"Captain!"

The white haired prodigy finally looked up at the broken tone in his subordinate's voice. She drew her breath underneath the tears that stained her words.

"Tell me, Captain! Am I not your vice-captain, your number one partner in war? Something's breaking you down, stealing you away from me, and I feel like I've lost you, like you never returned! I have no clue what's the matter with you, but still, you've pulled away, and you're hindering me in saving you! Your men are starting to worry as well; I've heard them whisper, seen their swords waver, felt the change in atmosphere of pure worry for their captain. So why not say it again, Hitsugaya Toshiro? Just try to say it to me, to the woman whose bond to you is woven so tightly we could be of the same blood, and to them, to the men who exist only to serve under your image, only to die for you and you alone, that it isn't our business!"

Her lower lip was trembling, and never before had she struggled harder to keep the tears away. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears as she awaited a response, any response.

The green eyes that had grown wide at the words of his partner looked away, something in them now changed, maybe for the better, maybe not. They were not as distant anymore, and had a speck of reality in them, a tiny shimmer that could be confused for overflowing tears.

The man drew his breath like an inverted sigh, letting his mouth dwell open as he found the words he was looking for. This time, she knew no reply would come, but something had been started in the prodigy's mind, and she knew it would slowly grow into a flower, and that the flower eventually would open up to reveal the withered petals inside, and the shadows that ripped it of its sun.

Though, that was in due time.

"You're excused now," he whispered, collecting the now dried paper, eyes moving all over, unable to decide where to put themselves. Eyelashes were lashing against his cheek as they blinked, and she realized they were tears, the shimmering emotion she'd read in them; the dewdrops that slowly inched down a pale cheek. He sat up straighter, collecting himself after speaking the words he hadn't spoken to her since she became his vice captain.

"But Captain—"

"I need to be alone, Matsumoto. Leave."

The woman's eyes saddened, and she turned, running out and closing the door behind her, gently.

Hitsugaya cleared the desk of what was in front of him, and buried his head in his hands, letting the unshed tears flow silently, even though he knew even that it wouldn't relieve the pressure weighing him down.

* * *

A/N: I've been told by people that I use a pretty formal english when I write stories ('specially dialogue,) but I tried to tone it down quite a bit. . I'm not good at not neglecting stories, so I probably won't be updating in a while (even though I do have 11 more pages written up already.) I really hope I'll be able to finish this one, though!

I've drawn a doshinji-page from a part of it, and it's to be found on my deviant art (whose name also is SillyWQ,) if you want to look. :D

Please give me constructive critisism, or if you don't want to, just tell me what you think about Fading Light!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you SO MUCH, all of you guys! ;_; I'm glad that you received my story so well! I'm really sorry I didn't reply to all of your reviews, but know that I'm grateful! (The rest of this chapter was written thinking of all of you!)  
This time, the reason of Hitsugaya's trauma is becoming a bit more clear. Prepare for surprises...

* * *

Ichigo stopped by the road with eyes slightly widened when something most unusual happened.

He could very, very clearly feel a reiatsu.

He turned, looking up at a tall building of Soul Society; the tenth division quarters. Out of worry, he had seen his guests away, with the exception of Rukia, who practically had moved into his closet, and asked Urahara to send him to that other world, to which the man only nodded, sensing the seriousness as well. Ichigo easily figured that he was the one who had sent the white haired male back to Soul Society.

Now, he had been thinking about visiting Rangiku, as she had required of him, most likely to talk about Hitsugaya, but while he normally would have walked from bar to bar looking for her, he somehow knew she wouldn't be there this time. The woman loved alcohol, gossip and shopping more than everything else, but the wise woman knew better than drowning her sorrows with any of them. It was further proved when he could sense that she was sitting on roof, and he flash-stepped, standing by her side after only a few seconds passed.

The woman didn't do anything to knowledge his appearance but lying down, hands under her head and eyes moulding the clouds into fantasy shapes, her shinigami robes lay crumpled around her just like her hair. He walked over, sitting down as well, closing his eyes.

It took a couple of minutes of silence for either of them to talk, even though both knew what he was there for, but finally, Matsumoto opened her mouth.

"Captain never returned from his mission."

Ichigo drew his breath.

"I know."

The silence settled upon them again, but the strawberry didn't let it stay for long.

"What happened back there?"

"I have no idea."

"He hasn't told you?"

Matsumoto shook her head. "No, every time I try to ask, he draws back like he's been burnt. …Not unlike this time." The woman fell into thoughts she didn't finish, and Ichigo decided not to prod in them.

"You told me to seek you out," he said quietly. "Well, I'm here now, and I'm pretty sure you didn't just take pity upon me and decided to tell me what was wrong. Just now you even told me you have no idea yourself, so..."

Sighing with a nod, the woman bit her lip. That was right. She had a hope, a hope that the amazing power of the one and only Ichigo Kurosaki could cure her captain of the darkness he was in. She sat up, head hanging lower than normal, and studied the folds of her black robes with care. "I…" Her eyes met with his for a split second. "I've looked into this a bit," she admitted. "It was hard to find information, but I managed to acquire some… After searching for a while."

Ichigo stayed silent, waiting for her to continue.

"When captain returned from his mission, he was first sent away with a 4th squad medics team, so I figured Captain Unohana could give me her opinion on the matter, as I know she was specifically made to treat his injuries behind closed doors."

_Rushing like she was on the end of a trail of gunpowder and a fire was racing towards her, Rangiku ran towards the closest thing to a hospital Soul Society had. Even though it was flooded, it wasn't too hard to navigate around the 4__th__ division with some common sense and some help from fellow shinigami. Wounded were being transported between the rooms, and medical relief teams rushed behind. It was hard to stop someone, but as she spotted a lower ranked shinigami standing by the wall, catching his breath, she managed to seize him by the shoulder just as he was going to walk away, and ask where his captain was._

_She couldn't believe her own eyes or ears._

_The most powerful healer of all times had been sitting alone in an empty examination room for a couple of hours. According to the man, she'd been doing this now and then for the last few days. That was how Rangiku found the woman, too; sitting on the bed with her eyes downcast as if regretting something._

_Once she snapped out of it, Unohana looked up at the visiting vice captain, and stood from her seated position, the wide sleeves hiding away her delicate hands. "Vice captain Matsumoto," she said with a smile, which weirdly enough didn't seem as pure as her usual smiles. "It's a pleasure to have you visit. Is there anything I can help you with?"_

"Did she tell you anything?" Ichigo's urgent words betrayed his calm appearance. If she met Unohana, and she was the one that took care of Toshiro, then…?

Unfortunately, Rangiku merely shrugged, and continued to tell.

_Unohana closed her eyes, eyebrows drawn together as though in pain. "You know as well as me, Vice captain Rangiku, that I cannot give you that information. Aside from already being classified," she looked, sadly, at the woman in front of her, "Captain Hitsugaya has specially ordered that all records should be deleted, and that no word escapes from the 4__th__ division. Even if I was allowed to tell you…" Rangiku witnessed something she would never believe she could; a dainty hand, soft like feathers, reached up to cover what obviously was the start of a river of tears. "…I don't think I would be able to."_

The substitute shinigami's eyes widened, and he looked far off to the south, where he could see the 4th division area. "Unohana? _The _Unohana… Crying?" His words carried strong disbelief. If anyone could hold their mask, it was that woman, and even if she cried, it shouldn't be her place to cry for someone hardly related to her. The Gotei 13 captains were comrades, not friends.

Matsumoto nodded, and bit her lip.

"So now what?" Ichigo crossed his arms. "We're at a dead end?"

The strawberry blonde woman shook her head no. "Captain was sent to Hueco Mundo with a team of six men. Captain Unohana told me that three of them returned; we could ask them."

Getting up, the man swallowed. That would be a crucial clue. "Are they here in the tenth division?"

"Not anymore."

"Huh?"

"After they returned, they were… Well, I don't know if they retired or were ripped of their ranks, but they're no longer shinigami. They live in the Rukongai, far away."

Ichigo gave a slow nod. "You know where, though."

A grin was his answer, and it was only a matter of seconds before they were half way to the Seireitei walls.

* * *

Hitsugaya rested his hand against a raised arm, the wood of his brush pleasantly digging into his forehead; pleasantly, as this kept his eyelids open for another few seconds. Thirty two hours. That was how long he'd been awake so far, and he was absolutely starting to notice. Every light he saw seemed to be shining towards him with double strength, and his eyes were burning, too dry for swift blinks of his eyes to be effective. He heaved a shaky breath, willing them to stay open for just a bit longer.

He did not want to fall asleep.

Every moment spent with his eyes closed were moments spent in his worst nightmares. He'd never been afraid of the dark, but now, he made sure to stay inside his office whenever the sun went down. He suspected himself of having grown paranoid, but he guessed that as long as he acknowledged he had a problem, he'd be able to hide it. And that was the important thing.

When the burning feeling scratching at his eyes became too strong, he closed his eyes after all, and with horror, found out that it was nearly impossible to open them again. Still, he held on to consciousness for his dear life, because he did not want to fall asleep again.

But he was so tired…

* * *

"_Make yerself comfortable, lil' captain, 'cause ye'r gonna stay here for a long time!"_

_The taunting laughter of two arrancar soldiers slowly faded into silence as they walked further and further away from the chamber, in the very heart of where they kept prisoners in Hueco Mundo. Hitsugaya was unsure whether this underground facility was something the arrancar had dug up from old times or not, seeing as the chains that bound him to the wall were shiny and new, while the metal loops fastening them to the wall were rusted. He tried pulling them, weakly, but as expected, they wouldn't give._

_He'd been dragged in from the battlefield. It had been half a month since they'd arrived in Hueco Mundo to find any weaknesses in the construction of the fortress there, and they had encountered many battles, but seeing as he brought the top six men (actually, five men and one woman) in his squad, save for Matsumoto, who lead the tenth division in his absence, they all ended in a matter of minutes. Several of them would, he had noted, make good vice-captains, sometime in the future._

_But it had all changed when Hitsugaya was away, studying a single tower in the midst of all sand, trying to find its purpose._

_Returning to his squad of six, he found one of the stronger men on the ground, fatally wounded, and by the time he'd knelt down beside him and put a hand on his forehead, dead. After that, the woman fell, a long arrow piercing her chest. They all drew their swords, one of them too slowly, but one by one, they were struck with poisonous arrows that seemed to fly from nowhere, and though Hitsugaya was the last one to fall, he fell indeed._

_He wasn't sure of how long they were going to be kept alive, but going by the fact that they hadn't killed them yet, they had to have some sort of motive. Hostages? Information?_

"_Captain!"_

_He turned. On the wall to his right was a door of metal bars, and trapped there were three of his subordinates. Good, at least someone made it. He took notice that they were all lacking their zanpakuto, just as he himself._

_He didn't get a chance to reply to them as the door opened, and all four pairs of eyes flew to the woman who entered._

"_Matsumoto?"_

_The red-haired lieutenant put a thin finger to her lips as the heavy door closed behind her, soundlessly. She seemed wary, looking from side to side, but who wouldn't be when infiltrating the enemy's camp?_

"_Captain..." The woman ran over to her superior, kneeling down in front of her and reaching for something in the pouch hanging from her waist._

"_W-what are you doing here, Matsumoto?" He shook his head. "No, it doesn't matter at the moment. We're inside the enemy's base, and we have our third, fifth and seventh seat with us. If we can find a way to contact Soul Society, we might be able to get the upper hand in this battle. We'd better stick together, though; the enemies are everywh—!"_

_The last three letters didn't come out, stepping away in favour of a choking noise that came from a sickening feeling and a sharp pain in his abdomen. His shaking lips wouldn't form the rest of the word, and he felt blood bubbling in the back of his throat. Unable to get his suddenly dizzy mind to function properly, he slowly looked down, his chest heaving with shivering gulps._

"_M-matsumoto...?"_

_The woman's worried frown had changed into a sick grin, which was widening in such a fashion that the shinigami couldn't help but wonder if it wouldn't split her face in two._

"_You're right, __**captain**__, the enemies are everywhere."_

"_Ngh!" The white haired man's head snapped up as the knife penetrating the light skin of his stomach tilted slightly, making it slide deeper into his flesh, tearing it apart fibre by fibre. Through the cold, hard bite of the steel, he held his eyes open and looked up into the face of his trusted lieutenant._

_For just a flicker of a moment, he saw what he'd hoped to see again as a corpse on the battlefield; a worthless body, a careless loss for the losing side._

_He saw the face of Ichimaru Gin._

"_Y-you...!"_

"_My, my! Wha's gotten the lil' Captain so upset?"_

_What pissed him off the most that even though he'd seen the traitor's face for the briefest half second, the face was still that of Matsumoto's, and the voice the same._

"_Shit... That bastard is using his zanpakuto's powers for this?" Hitsugaya didn't bother watching his tongue in this place. He'd gladly have it cut, if dying from the blood loss meant not having to spill any secrets about Seireitei._

_There was no answer, but the familiar facial expression told him what he wanted to hear._

"_Aizen has u-used his illusion to make Ichimaru," he spat the name like venom, "appear like Matsumoto to us." He bit back a groan; it was painful to speak with the knife in his body, but his subordinates needed to be aware of the situation._

"_Ye'r not a bit less intelligent than ya used to be, Captain," the traitor in a woman's body said, not bothering to hide his dialect. "This'll be too fun."_

"_What are you hoping to achieve with this poor act?" Hitsugaya glared, hiding the fact that he was biting his lip so hard that it, too, bled._

"_Nothin' yet."_

_This time, a cough threatened to shake his body. "Yet?"_

_He couldn't deny the gasp that slipped through his lips at the same time as the knife slipped out of his stomach. He panted harshly, drawing in the old, dirty air to cool down the flaming pain. Without a word, the traitor stood from the floor, the image flickering once again as he turned away from the captain. "Enjoy yer stay, lil' Captain. I know I'm gonna."_

_Dizzy with confusion, Hitsugaya lowered his head and said nothing._

* * *

A/N: ...Surprise!_  
_


	3. Chapter 3

"Too bad."

"Yeah. Who would've known that they decided to hold a party here in Rukongai as well?"

Ichigo and Matsumoto dragged their feet through the dirt as they sulked along the path leading from the "town hall." As the lieutenant of the tenth division knew where her ex-subordinates lived, they had wasted no time practically teleporting to the rukongai, but even that knowledge had left them no wiser. Though it was best felt by the inhabitants of Seireitei and those connected to it, the victory of Soul Society had been a huge relief to the innocents, as they, too, felt the pressure of the war upon them. Surprisingly, many of the different districts had joined forces and created a huge celebration; one that nearly the whole, it seemed, population had decided to participate in. Each of the three houses they'd knocked on had been empty, which left them both with a heavy sense of defeat.

"It's not too normal, no. Usually, people are too spread out, and unwilling to share with one another. Well, not all, but even _some._ To think that _everyone_ have left..." The woman shuddered as they passed yet another house with dark windows.

"I guess that means we have to come back tomorrow?"

"I guess that's our only..." Matsumoto let the sentence fade out unfinished. Ichigo, who hadn't stopped walking at the same time as his friend, turned to her, about to ask her what the matter was, but merely blinked at the look on her face: Confusion, surprise, but above all, recognition.

He turned back around, looking after whatever had Matsumoto stopping... And his eyes fell on the most probable cause.

Even though he'd never seen the man before, he could easily tell that something had happened to him; something bad. The first thing he noticed about him was his eyes. They were dull, sunken in, and the dark bags under them spoke of sleepless nights. To add to it, he was pale, and as far as he could see with the puffed-out, casual yukata in the way, extremely skinny. Not the thin type of skinny either, more the type that you become after rejecting too many meals. All in all, the man looked unhealthy, lost, scarred...

Just like Toshiro.

"L-lieutenant Matsumoto..." The tone in his deep voice, (one that didn't suit his fragile body, Ichigo mentally added,) was wary, almost as if he was asking if that really was his former superior. He bowed lightly, after a moment's hesitation.

"Inuyama Kentaro," the woman replied, confirming her companion's suspicions: This was one of the shinigami who'd followed his taichou into their capture.

The man looked over at Ichigo briefly, coming to a conclusion. "You're here because of taichou, aren't you?"

Matsumoto nodded. "We're not here in official business, merely as friends, so you have all right to decline," she stated diplomatically, and walked closer to the man, determined, "but we want to hear what happened."

Kentaro sighed, and seemed to weigh it over in his head, before he motioned for them to follow. He turned around, and with low shoulders and a hunched back, started walking away from the street and to a stray road that lead into one of the smaller forests. The two shinigami almost didn't hear the low mumble that escaped him.

"No... You don't."

Ichigo and Rangiku gave each other a look, and followed.

* * *

_It was hard to tell how many weeks had passed. Or if it was rather months than weeks. It could even have been only days. None of them knew anymore._

_In the middle of the room lay the normally prideful captain, clothes scratched and torn, not to mention bloody. One pale hand was drawn to a paler chest, the former undoubtedly broken. Gin, this time posing as the loyal captain Komamura, had been there only a short while ago, but the blue and yellow wrist was no new injury; they, some arrancar posing as shinigami from the fourth division, had used minor healing skills to heal all other wounds but the wrist, resulting with a not only broken, but infected hand. It hadn't helped that it had been repeatedly stepped on during the torture, causing the white haired man to vomit several times. Not that any of the hostages had been given any real amount of food._

"_Captain?" one of the men dared ask, though carefully. The man addressed forced his eyes open, immediately trying to get up, as not to look so pathetic in front of his men. Had the situation been different, all three men would have opposed to this, in case moving could do further damage, but at the moment, they needed a symbol of authority. If their leader gave up, they had nowhere to go._

_The door opened again, and the subordinates noticed how the boy flinched, even though his expression turned grave. The lieutenant of the ninth division entered; Hisagi Shuuhei. _

_Hitsugaya felt the need to bark an order at him, but he caught himself; it was just Gin. Sadly, it was the second time in a short while that he had to remind himself._

"_I'm just here to check up on you, Captain Hitsugaya," he said respectfully, but the white haired male wasn't buying._

"_What do you want, Gin? Why are you keeping us prisoners? We'll never talk, none of us."_

"_Gin" shook his head. "I'm not allowed to tell you, Captain Hitsugaya."_

_Hitsugaya jerked forward, stopped only by the pounding wrist. "Stop calling me that, you bastard! Stop these games!"_

"_You're not as sharp as before... That's good."_

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_Confused..._

_He finally caught the traitor's eyes with his in a death glare._

"_Cut. It. Out."_

_The image of Gin flickered once more, but the split second view of that grin was enough to fuel the hate in his soul._

"_The Gotei-13 has no more use for you."_

_What the hell?_

"_You were only a temporary fill in for the tenth division, just someone to be there until someone older and more emotionally strong could take over."_

_Hitsugaya's eyes narrowed. What was he trying this time? _

"_The Gotei-13 captains only acted as friendly as they did to keep you in there. All of the lieutenants and subordinates were ordered to observe you. They have never been your friends, not even comrades, they have only waited for any of the other lieutenants, any of the other shinigami, to defeat you and take over your place."_

_The captain growled. "That's a load of shit, Hisagi!"_

_Gin, and therefore Hisagi, grinned evilly. He reviewed his words, and noticed his slip up, without another word, the black haired man walked out of the room._

"_DAMN!" The captain kicked the ground angrily, before sinking into a slumped position, feeling the doubtful eyes of his surviving men on his bruised back._

_

* * *

_

For a little while, everything was far away. He could hear the rumble of voices talking, see the light play on the canvas of his closed eyelids and feel time passing by, but the cold that was muffling the world made it all insignificant. No words could or would be made out of the rumble. The light reached him only skin deep. The seconds moved at a sluggish pace where neither minutes nor hours were minimalistic enough. He could die like this, assuming that he wasn't dead already. He just wasn't sure anymore.

Needles were prickling his skin, leaving no inch intact, small stinging sensations keeping him aware that he still could feel on a physical level. Yet, the sensation was too surreal to be something else than a dream.

Suddenly, something in his chest jerked harshly, painfully, making him aware that he couldn't shut himself down completely. The tranquillity had to end. After several minutes with his head down into the sink, his lungs were giving him a heads up that no, he wasn't as dead as he thought he was after all.

Air. He needed air.

As if something had pulled him, Hitsugaya jerked his head back, coughing up water that had accidentally made its way down his windpipe, forcing wheezing gulps of air back into his body. His hair gave a wet smack when it heavy with water slapped his forehead, but he wasn't sure if he felt that either. It was a numb feeling. Reaching up, he ruffled his white hair, the large drops of water easily slipping off the thin silken strands. Like always, it fluffed out and up in a lively way. He frowned at the irony as he gripped both sides of the marble sink and looked into the mirror; inspecting everything but his own eyes. For some reason, he didn't think he could handle that.

He looked down into the rippling water instead. It resembled his inner turmoil more perfectly than any mirror could.

Even in the partly crystallized water, he became aware of the dark circles that surrounded his eyes. Funny; he'd scolded Momo for looking like that, once.

Momo. His dearest childhood friend. Sister, even.

A droplet of water, or a tear; one seemed as likely as the other, slipped down his cheek, and he went to wipe it away. The touch between his warm hand and ice cold cheek could've set off sparks. He hissed, and let it be. He knew he looked like a mess, water soaking his head, hair and shoulders, eyes red and sore, skin pale to the point of being almost translucent. He looked unhealthy, and very much so. He should've known that sleep would do him no good. Not if nightmares was all it brought.

He closed his eyes again and rubbed them dry; not that they weren't already. He had been staying inside his division for a good while, and was in no haste of getting out of there. His subordinates needed not just a powerful leader; that was useless. They needed a mentally strong one that they could place their trust in, one they could look up to and strive to please. Once that thought was planted in his mind, it started growing. Should he step down from his position as a captain of the Gotei 13? Was he really any good for his men in his current state? How long would it last before he was degraded?

He felt like putting his head down into the near-frozen water again, and this time keep it there until his lungs didn't give painful jerks anymore, but resisted. He had witnessed what had happened to the third division when they lost their captain. The atmosphere was still gloomy; in the last recruitment week, Kira Izuru could count the new shinigami on his own two hands; in the past years, the usually playful and friendly division had to bring in a thick and heavy folder to keep account of all the names. They were heavily dispirited. Not only were they betrayed, they were without an icon. Without the betrayal, Hitsugaya himself had thought that Kira would someday make a fine captain, should there be need for one, but instead, the lieutenant drowned somewhere in the loss, and was an unlucky role model to his division. His despair infected them all.

Could he really imagine the tenth division like that? Sorrowfully burdened with their captain's pathetic leave?

He let himself dry off before he returned to his office. There were questions, but no doubt. He had already made up his mind.

He would survive. Or so he hoped.

* * *

A bad feeling pushed at Ichigo's guts. It wasn't the sort of feeling he got from being told bad news, nor was it worry, or anticipation of something ill. It was pity, and it wasn't unreasoned.

Matsumoto and he had followed this Kentaro to his house located in the outskirts of the forest. A beautiful home, the teenager immediately thought as he saw it from a distance. It wasn't big, but not too small either, and lay by a lake that glittered in the sun. With no surrounding mountains, the view was unlimited and the sun would come up early and go down late no matter what time of year it was. It was a house for a family; that was easy to see.

Upon entering the building, though, shivers ran through the adolescent's body. The house was strangely empty, the kind of empty that came from moving out furniture and other inventory that you didn't need. They entered something resembling a living room, and Ichigo frowned. There was a working desk in the corner, all sorts of tools for wood carving scattered along the top, as well as the floor around, some children's toys here and there, along with what sometime had to have been a most beautiful bouquet of flowers, but now was a bunch of wilted, crispy, brown stalks bound together by a cotton band. The air was filled with dust; he could see it sparkling in the slender sunbeams that entered through the window.

With its back to the rest of the house, a leaning chair was placed beside a table with three smaller surrounding chairs. A cup of, probably, cold tea sat on the table, and two piles of books, along with one open book, lay beside. Both stacks were tall, but one taller than the other, one with books that seemed newer than the other. Probably one with read books and one with unread ones. Ichigo frowned at the sight; the house formerly occupied by a family of a woman, her husband and their child was now only used by one man, and if the depressed captain back in Seireitei was anything to go by, he could understand why.

The man motioned for them to seat, and Ichigo did, but Matsumoto kept standing, shifting her weight from one leg to another, unsure of where to put herself. Kentaro himself sank down into the chair as if it had been made to fit his body alone, and closed his eyes. Although both the redheads were eager to hear whatever the man had to tell them, they said nothing. It took the man a while to open his eyes, and when he did, they had changed morbidly. They were dull, looking into himself to draw out memories that were restrained somewhere in the darker areas of his mind.

"Like I said," the man said so suddenly that Ichigo was startled, though he didn't let it show, "you don't want to know what happened, because it should never have happened." He rubbed his face somewhat shamefully.

"Please." Matsumoto's expression was determined. "We need to..." She stopped herself, swallowing. "I need to know what happened to my captain. I need to know if there's anything I can do to help at all."

Kentaro studied her, but seemed to give.

"In the Shinigami Academy, we were all warned about the possibility of torture during a hostage situation. We went through it time and time again. 'They want information. Information you under no circumstances will give them. Use that to go through the pain. Do it for the Gotei 13, for the Soul Society.'" He broke off, and in the corner of his eye, Ichigo saw Matsumoto nod. Apparently, she had been taught the same thing.

"Lieutenant Matsumoto... If you were being tortured, and your captors didn't want anything from you, if you had nothing to hold on to, what would you do?"

She furrowed her brows. "What are you getting at?"

The man sighed. "...What if those who tortured you were the Gotei-13 themselves?"

* * *

_A pained cry echoed in the dungeon, and three shinigami shuddered where they sat. The floors were relatively clean in their cell, although scattered with hay which made it hard to find somewhere comfortable to sit. Their door, consisting of nothing but horizontal metal bars, gave them a front row view of the torture their captain was subject to, and even if they did turn away, the sounds eagerly described the morbid scene._

_For the second time that day, although it was hard to tell without any sun to go by, they had visited the white-haired captain in his torture chamber. They hadn't cleaned the floors of the water he'd repeatedly been close-to-drowned in by "Unohana," (until he passed out,) nor had the water on his skin gotten a chance to dry. Rather the opposite: "Ukitake" had soaked him in more water, and now, he was poking at him with an iron pole, the hot metal and hissing water making a dangerous combination as his skin sizzled like a frying pan. He had been at it for so long- telling him how worthless he was, how little he meant for Soul Society and what they were going to do with him if he returned, in his normal, friendly voice with his normal, friendly smile- that the previous pole had gone cold, and he'd put it back in the pile of glowing coal. The air reeked of burnt flesh, vomit and blood, as "Ukitake" had force-fed the boy with poisonous candy which had made him writhe, scream and throw up. Two of the three shinigami bearing witness to the torture had thrown up themselves._

"_What important knowledge do I have that you would strive so hard to get? What do you want to know, huh, Ukitake?"_

_After a month of daily (and nightly) torture performed by all of the captain's friends and colleagues, his subordinates had noticed a change in him. He wasn't as indifferent to what they did to him any longer, he referred to the torturers by the names of their disguises, and he would scream and beg, not to mention that he never fought back any longer, even when he was given the chance to. He struggled to get away, oh yeah, but he never actually tried to hurt his captors, who all were disguised as shinigami._

_It took some time before the captain got the answer to his question._

"_Nothin'."_

_The captain's teal eyes grew wide._

"_Ya don't have any information we need, lil' captain."_

_The sizzling iron pole was brought down on the tender flesh again, refreshing the sickening smell of cooked meat. It was no doubt of the arrancar's identity this time; the voice and dialect of Ichimaru sounded foreign in Ukitake's mouth._

"_Ya seem to have misunderstood what we're doin'. We're going to break ya down, bit by bit, an' when ye'r completely broken, we're gonna build ya up like an arrancar soldier. Ye'r gonna fight fer us, lil' Shiro. Ye'r gonna help us take down Soul Society as ya know it, and ye'r gonna be sane doin' it. Ye'r gonna want it."_

"_Never! None of the things you say will happen! I'll never join forces with bastards like you!" Hitsugaya spat saliva, poison and blood at the other white-haired captain's feet, glowering hatefully at his smiling face. Although it must have been incredibly hard, he managed to serve one of his soul-shaking glares to the body of the man who might as well have claimed to be his father, with all of the care and affection he showed towards the other "Shiro."_

_A grin distorted the peaceful face. "Ye'r sayin' that now, but soon, ye'r gonna slaughter them all, and ya ain't gonna care who, 'cause they're all yer enemies. Maybe ye'r gonna take down Ukitake, maybe Unohana, maybe yer subordinates, maybe Soi Fon, maybe Matsumoto…"_

'_Ukitake' leaned in to speak directly into the Captain's ear._

"_Maybe, at the end of the fight, ye'r gonna find yerself with yer sword buried deeply in yer dear sister Hinamori's fragile heart?"_

_Hitsugaya screamed, though it was hard to determine whether it was because of the traitor's terrifying words or the glowing pole digging into his stomach._

"_Ye'r gonna fight fer us, lil' Captain," Ichimaru repeated. "Ye'r gonna fight fer us and enjoy it."_

_

* * *

_A/N_: ..._Nah, the bad excuse for a plot isn't moving much yet, is it? It's pretty much just beating up Hitsugaya for now, isn't it? Oh well, it won't last too long from now on, I think. At last this is getting somewhere~!_  
_


	4. Chapter 4

A/N:I'm so, SO sorry for the INCREDIBLY late update! I don't really have any good excuses either, so feel free to throw random items at me! ^^;

Anyway, I just thought I'd finally reply to some reviews (I'm very sorry I haven't before!) Thank you all so much for giving me such wonderful reviews in the first place! I'm really flattered! / I'm glad you find it exciting; more is to come, I promise, so stay breathing, xTKx, and keep feeling sorry for the li'l captain, all of you!

Musicgirll123: IchiHitsu FTW indeed! But I'm sorry, this one isn't a pairing fic! ^^; I'm going for a brotherly love in this!

FMKeyblade: I'm glad you're bearing with me with the descriptions! I was trying to be as controversive as I could, calling him boy and man at the same time, but it ended up just sounding weird after all... xD

Shotgunserenade: I'm glad you're excited; here's more for you~!

Sorrick: Thanks A LOT for the reminder! I'd completely forgotten to set the rating to "M!"

* * *

Ichigo pat his investigative partner's back again; slowly, comfortingly, as she took slow breaths, hand on her pale forehead, knees drawn to her chest as she was seated in the long grass beside the house where they'd, together, been given the chance to imagine what the white haired captain had been through, from the beginning to the end. As they were hard to stop, the visions had come flowing, and knowing such situations and her captain as well as she did, Matsumoto had, after getting the whole story, felt the need to get out of there, sick to her stomach and pale as bed sheets.

The sun had almost finished its trip over the brilliant blue sky, and now, shadows loomed everywhere, taking up a greater part of the scenery than the sunshine did. In less than an hour, the fallen shinigami would paint the horizon with a blood red, macabre sunset to bid the sun good bye.

They'd already been sitting there for a couple of minutes in silence, and it was getting tenser by the second. Just to break it, Ichigo sighed, and opened his mouth.

"So that was what happened, huh."

Matsumoto considered opening her mouth to speak, but didn't, afraid that her lunch would show up rather than words. Instead, she made a tiny noise of agreement, sitting up with her eyes closed. Truthfully, Soul Society had minor enemies, and even though it was a rare event, people did get taken hostage from time to time. She'd been in that situation before, alongside her white haired captain, but if they became tired and wanted to give up, they'd look at each other with tired smiles, knowing that sooner or later, an opportunity would come, and they'd get out of it, back to their division and fellow captains.

Hitsugaya hadn't had any of that during his capture. No one to look at that would ensure you that everything would be alright in the end.

The strawberry-blonde woman took a deep breath. "Now we know, but what do we do?"

"We go find him."

"And?"

"And tell him we know. Tell him we just want to help him."

The lieutenant looked at him carefully, seeming to doubt that method, and he added; "trust me." Something in his eyes told her that, in fact, he knew more about the situation than he let on, and that he truly believed his method would gain them results. Slowly, she nodded, and got to her feet.

"Let's go find Captain. He'll be in his office... I know he will."

Ichigo barely had the time to agree before the two of them, again, were racing towards the tall walls of Seireitei.

* * *

Like they suspected, the tenth division was, at evening, so quiet that the sound of ink being applied to paper was fully audible from outside the captain's office's door. The door didn't creak when Matsumoto, without knocking, opened it, because it had been oiled well, but that didn't mean that the captain who produced the scribbling sounds hadn't noticed. On the contrary, Matsumoto was positive that her captain was fully aware of the two intruders, even if he hadn't spared them a split second's glance.

The soft 'click' coming from the door as it was locked by Ichigo, though, caught the captain's attention.

"It's too late to be up doing paperwork, Matsumoto, Kurosaki." The prodigy's eyes returned to the form he was filling out. "Go to the barracks."

Sharing a look, both equally concerned that Hitsugaya not only had advised against what he was currently doing, but also forgotten that neither of them slept in the squad member barracks, (Matsumoto had her own place, and Ichigo didn't even live in the Soul Society,) the bright-haired duo stepped closer to the worn desk.

"That's not why we're here, Toshirou."

The captain looked at them curiously, and neither of them were surprised that he hadn't noticed that he'd been addressed as informally as his given name, no suffix. After a moment's silence, he sighed, rubbing at his temples weakly. His frown wasn't as deep as it used to be.

"I've already told you, Matsumoto, that nothing is wrong. If the two of you are here to further ask me about the matter—"

"We know, Captain."

His head snapped up immediately, and he looked at the two redheads, bewildered.

"We know what happened to you in Hueco Mundo."

For a few seconds, the whole room fell silent, but Hitsugaya's venom-lathered voice broke the silence.

"Leave."

"Toshi—"

"Both of you. Now."

The prodigy had forgotten all about paperwork; the brush that was rolling over the sheet, staining it with thick ribbons of ink, was proof of that. His hands, curled into fists, rested on either side of the desk. His eyes seemed to get darker by the second.

When neither of the two visitors moved, Hitsugaya's thin patience seemed to end. He got up wordlessly, the chair screeching behind him loudly, and headed for the door, determined to throw out his guests: Apparently, he wasn't going to tell them twice.

As he passed his vice captain, she tried to stop him by putting a hand to his wrist, but as soon as her finger brushed against its way too cold skin, the hand flew to where Hyorinmaru usually was loyally peeking over his shoulder. Neither of them had missed the way he grabbed for the absent zanpakuto, even though the captain tried to play it off casually.

"I told you to leave; you have no business here." He walked towards the door again, this time reaching and unlocking it, but just as he opened it slightly, Ichigo pushed it shut.

"You need to talk about it, Toshiro! Don't go around pretending everything's fine!"

"Get out."

"This isn't the way to process what happened to you! You're just hurting everyone around you!"

The captain ignored the nagging teenager, wordlessly distancing himself from the fluctuating reiatsu of Ichigo and the pleading eyes of Rangiku. The always so strong vice captain seemed to be on the verge of crying.

"Ignoring us won't help! Tell us, Toshiro! Tell us how you feel!"

He squeezed his eyes shut, balled his fists.

"_Toshiro_!"

Hitsugaya whirled around, lip curled up in a feral snarl. "I feel like they ruined me!" he growled. "I feel like they crushed everything I believe in, made me doubt everything I know, broke me into pieces I don't know how to put together! Is that what you wanted to hear?"

The lieutenant and the strawberry both were taken aback at hearing the words directly from the man.

The white haired captain continued regardless of their silence, pointing an accusing finger out the window; at an imaginary Hueco Mundo. "I cannot talk of what they did there, because what I am now, is thousand times better than what I would be if I let it get to me now!" He had tears clinging to his eyelashes like dewdrops in the early morning; barely noticeable, but still there. "This time, Matsumoto, _you_ tell _me_: How am I supposed to stand up in front of those who so supposedly admire me? What image am I to my men if I am broken?" The end of his sentence was nothing but a dry sob.

"Toshiro…"

"Get out."

"Captain, I—"

"I told you to _get the hell out!_"

Ichigo, though, wasn't known for taking orders, and merely stepped forward: Even though the boy said otherwise, 'letting it get to you' so you could let it out and share it was always the best option; the death of his mother taught him that. The action made Toshiro step back.

"Toshiro," he continued, "neither I nor Rangiku would tell anyone of anything you'd tell us, y'know?" He reached out for the captain, who he now was close enough to touch, but he evaded, squatting down and pulling his knees to his chest, curling into a little ball.

"No, get away!"

The strawberry turned to look at Matsumoto, whose eyes were as wide as ever. Toshiro had never before acted so childishly, at least not when anyone could come and see. Something was _too_ wrong. He kneeled down, laying a warm hand on the small back. The reaction was instant.

"_**Don**__**'**__**t touch me!**_"

Brown eyes went wide as well, and he swallowed. The words weren't nearly as commanding as they usually were, but the fright, the shear horror in them, was enough to make him pull away. He needed to know what happened, but this was obviously not how to do it.

"Toshiro—"

"Please don't… Please…"

The whispered words and broken sobs (Hitsugaya was definitely crying by now) made Ichigo kneel down again, this time very carefully putting an arm around the captain's shoulders. The tense body didn't loosen up a bit, and he pulled his legs tighter to his chest. It was obvious that he'd fallen back into Hueco Mundo; neither Rangiku nor Ichigo had a single clue of what he was talking about. He was obviously begging someone, whispering words like 'don't,' 'please,' 'stop' and 'no more' as tears soaked the fabric of his own hakamas' thighs. He got no reaction from Toshiro as he lifted him up into his arms, leaning him on his chest as he was unable to uncurl the boy. It broke his heart, having to listen to the whispers and whimpers, but he managed to agree with Matsumoto, who was crying herself, that the best place to take him would be to the fourth division. Any sleep, drug-induced or not, would be good for him.

* * *

After dropping the man off, ensuring that nobody but Unohana saw them, the red-haired duo got themselves collected at Matsumoto's apartment. Ichigo was surprised to see that it was very close to the fourth division, and thus quite a distance away from the tenth, but he had to admit that looking out of the window from the third floor of the apartment building and being able to view several training grounds, some relaxing gardens and tens of rooftops was a good reason for such an odd placement. They had already spent half an hour walking back to the apartment (taking their time, of course,) and then Rangiku made them both a nicely decorated plate of sushi. Three whole hours of cooking, eating and minor house work went by, almost without a single exchange of words, but when she served them both tea, Ichigo felt like breaking the ear-deafening silence.

"What now?" he asked out into the room, though his words seemed to bounce off the walls and disappear, as if they hadn't made a difference. They probably didn't either, and the voluptuous, strawberry-blonde woman's sigh confirmed it.

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head sadly. She tapped her fingers on her thigh, clenched them into a fist and spread them repeatedly in a restless fashion. Her investigative companion noticed this, as she was seated on the kitchen counter, looking at Ichigo by the kitchen table nearby, but didn't ask.

"I thought he was ready."

Ichigo blinked. "Huh?"

Matsumoto's eyes closed. "Do you know how captain got into the Shinigami Academy?"

Humming in a fashion that clearly told the woman 'no, but go on,' he realized that he didn't know. Even though he knew every detail of the Kusaka incident, how Hitsugaya lost his closest friend, the story of the captain becoming a shinigami was still a mystery to him.

"I bumped into him at a store."

The strawberry disliked repeating himself, so instead of inquiring what that was supposed to mean, he waited for Matsumoto to go on, which she did.

"He probably didn't even feel his own reiatsu at the time, but I did. I was walking past the store by pure chance; I was on patrol through the rukongai, but when I felt such a powerful reiatsu flare, I really thought a fellow shinigami was in trouble, so I ran to that store. I didn't really pay attention to how he looked, but I noticed that he was being treated rudely by the shop clerk, so I pulled him away and told the shopkeeper off. Then I told _him_ off for not standing up for himself, but when I realized he was just a kid, not a shinigami, not even from Seireitei, I paused long enough for him to get away."

She took a natural break in the story, as she seemed to be contemplating something. Ichigo didn't interrupt.

"I asked for permission to return to Junrinan a couple of days later, and I got it. When I first got there, finding his flaring reiatsu was easy; he was competing in some sort of spinning tops challenge, and by the looks of it, he was having a hard time winning, causing that cold reiatsu to whip around him like the wings of a bird. I decided that he was what I thought he was; a kid, and I was about to head away, but he won, and all of the other kids walked away immediately. Not a single one of them stayed behind with Captain. That was when I realized the mature look in his eyes. He truly looked like an adult. And so, I decided to confront him the next day."

"Confront him about what?"

Lean legs crossed, Matsumoto leaned forward to rest her elbows on them. If Ichigo knew a thing about body language, she was about to tell him something that made her uncomfortable.

"About becoming a shinigami." She sighed. "I stayed at an inn nearby. Well, it wasn't really an inn, but with the right amount of money, they let me stay there for the night. I thought I'd get a good night's sleep without having to get up early in the morning for any kind of training, but I was wrong."

Suddenly, Matsumoto got up and headed over to the open window, resting her cheek in her palm as she leaned on the windowsill. Ichigo almost chuckled; getting fidgety when uncomfortable was obviously a trait she shared with her captain. "A couple of hours before sunrise, I was awoken by a very strong wave of rushing reiatsu. At first, I checked downstairs, thinking that someone with a reiatsu had to be close by, but the people in the house were fast asleep, though shivering lightly under their thin blankets. Even you would have been able to tell whose reiatsu that was. I immediately headed over to Captain's house, and I found him awake. His grandmother was covered in a thin sheet of ice, and I realized that he'd had the same experience as when I first met Haineko. Well, we didn't meet as violently, if you could call it that, but nonetheless, I confronted him, asking him if he, too, had met his zanpakuto's spirit in his dreams. He had, so I told him that the best course of action if he didn't want to hurt his grandmother any longer was to join the Shinou Academy."

Ichigo nodded. It sounded reasonable to him. But Matsumoto didn't seem pleased.

"I should never have done that. Ever since I saw that mature look, I thought he was ready. As you know, age isn't really much to go by here in Soul Society, and neither is physical looks, so I couldn't possibly know that he'd never really been a kid. Momo-chan told me, when I got to know about her and Captain's tight relationship, that he had never really had a childhood. All the other kids, even her friends, would shun him, so all that was left to do for him was to care for the house, his grandmother, Momo and himself."

She buried her face in his arms. "He'd never had a childhood, and I just threw him into the adult life. Things didn't really change for him, at least not before he met Kusaka, but you know what happened after that." Matsumoto shifted uncomfortably. "I stole his whole childhood away. Ever since he joined the academy, all his experiences have been bad ones."

_No way. _Ichigo's jaw dropped. Matsumoto was _blaming herself!_

"If I hadn't put him into the academy, he would've been able to get his childhood emotions out. He would've been able to turn into a fine adult. He is already mature, but he's not an adult."

She sighed.

"My captain is still a boy. He doesn't know how to feel about trust and betrayal. He was never taught about it in his childhood. That's why he has such difficulties trusting people, but when he does, he trusts them with his life. Neither of the two is healthy. He trusts all of the captains left in seireitei, just as much as he trusted Aizen. If anyone else betrays him now..."

Her words faded into an uncomfortable silence.

"...The arrancar would have found him."

Matsumoto turned to the male who joined her by the windowsill. "What?"

"If what you say is true, if he did have such a high reiatsu, the arrancar would have found him when Aizen betrayed Soul Society." The redhead smirked at the woman. "You saved him, Matsumoto."

"..." The grey eyes fell, and a smile pulled the corners of her lips into a smile. At least that much was true.

Ichigo turned around, yawning, and the mood changed immediately. "I don't know about you, Rangiku, but I'm beat!" He eyed the living room through the open door on the opposite wall; namely the comfy-looking couch. Considering the situation they were in, he knew he probably didn't even have to ask, but still he waited for the woman to catch onto him. She did, quickly.

"If you want to, you can stay here overnight." Rangiku walked into the living room instead, pulling out a well-worn pillow and a blanket; she'd crashed on the couch after a night of drinking enough times to be well prepared. "I'll try to catch some sleep myself now."

The teenager nodded, and finished off his tea. "I bet your captain's sleeping by now as well."

Smiling, the woman opened the door to her bedroom, intending to jump into bed as soon as possible, but paused in the doorway. "Thank you, Ichigo," she said softly.

Ichigo, crashing on the couch for the evening, smiled as well. "Always."

* * *

The following morning, Ichigo woke with a grunt. He felt like he'd had an extremely weird dream, but couldn't really remember what. The only detail that still clung to his foggy mind was a knocking noise, which he was sure was what had woken him.

_Knock knock._

So _that_ hadn't been just a dream.

Sighing, the substitute shinigami sat up and took in his surroundings, memories of the past day coming to him quickly. Whenever he had to save one of his friends, a shinigami or even a stranger, he'd always just wave his sword around and tear down walls until he found who he was looking for, and that tactic worked well for him, but this time, he had to save someone from their own mind, which was something he'd never even thought of doing before. This was a wholly different fight, and with the last remains of sleepiness clouding up his mind, he was starting to doubt if he could really make a difference after all.

The resolve to save his friend, though, was stronger than any doubt his mind could master up against him.

_Knock knock._

Right.

When his mind finally realized what the knocking meant, Ichigo was already off the couch, but the house's owner beat him to the door, already in her shinigami attire with the trustful, if not a bit too lazy, Haineko by her hip. Even though Rangiku was standing in his line of sight, Ichigo recognized Vice-Captain Kotetsu Isane by her pale hair and tall body. He didn't miss the short shadow cast by a high sun either, meaning he'd been asleep for quite some time.

What he was intending to miss was the two women's chattering, but not even that escaped his ears that morning.

"Ichigo, Rangiku, I need you to come with me to the fourth division." The nervous-by-nature woman squirmed uncomfortably, making the two redheads nervous as well. "Captain Hitsugaya is…"


End file.
